by Glen Martin Fitch
Sharp trickster,
how we loved to watch you tie
our muddled minds
into a knotted maze.
Your jests and jokes
did twist each question,
"Why?"
till heart and head
were drugged in deadly daze.
Wise cynic,
never have you had such praise
for tense distortion,
farce and helplessness.
With hope abandoned,
darkest night betrays
"dead" land,
"dead" minds
and only Death to bless.
And yet in spite of Lethe,
I must confess my heart still beats
and wiser have I grown,
for,
while I have no spirit left to guess,
I know the constants
even you have known.
And so if queer queens love
and scapegoats die
won't spring reveal the truth
of every “lie”?
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011